


Something Beyond Fate

by paulrvia



Category: Caraval Series - Stephanie Garber
Genre: Angst, Bonding, Book 1: Caraval, Canon - Book, Enemies to Lovers, F/M, Fantasy, Fate, Fate & Destiny, Forbidden Love, Heartbreak, Magic, Romance, Running Away, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-30
Updated: 2020-04-15
Packaged: 2021-02-28 19:59:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,473
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23402608
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/paulrvia/pseuds/paulrvia
Summary: She felt it that night.The bond pulling at her, willing her to succumb to it with the lightest of caresses across her mind that left her breathless for more. The more time passed, the harder it was to resist. She was a fool to think the bond could just disappear with such a simple action as driving a dagger through his chest. They might not have been wed, and she might not have felt the love she was supposed to, but their minds were still attached, embracing one another. It had only grown stronger since then, the distance and time heightening it until the intense sensation came to life, passionate and forceful and eager to swallow her. She feared he could feel it too, feel her want burning through her, eating her alive even when her mind opposed and mocked her.Only her mind betrayed her too.That night the voice finally took shape as he emerged like a raven from the fog.
Relationships: Donatella Dragna/Jacks, Donatella Dragna/Prince of Hearts, Tella Dragna/Jacks
Comments: 7
Kudos: 27





	1. Chapter 1

Donatella

It had been 5 months, 2 weeks and 3 days since the death of the Fallen Star. Half a year has passed since Tella saved her sister—and the whole world for that matter—from the deadly Fate as Scarlett took over, barely understanding her new powers and duty, only knowing she had to step over before things went loose and more damage happened.

Ever since, Scarlett had been constantly learning and practicing her magic with the help of other Fates who peacefully resided in her palace, swearing not to inflict harm upon her or anyone else.

Tella admired her sister for that quality for she never possessed it, didn’t have the ability to be responsible and selfless, much less to look after a whole kingdom when she barely looked after herself.

She supposed that made her selfish and Tella never denied it, rather acting out the role of the rebellious princess who spent her days carelessly with her lover, avoiding all and any duty. Thankfully, Scarlett never gave her any, knowing the final result wouldn’t be perfect in the hands of her curious sister who thirsted for knowledge and adventure beyond her power. 

Scarlett only ever made her join her for important dinners and events, and Tella was happy to oblige, feigning ignorance and taking pleasure in the way the noblemen around her had treated her—as the foolish young princess who only cared about her hair and diamonds.

When she wasn’t attending dinners with her sister, Tella spent all of her time with the person she loved the most, Legend. It had almost been hard to believe; that he was finally hers and ready to love her with his everything as he showed that day by day. He stopped joining Caraval as an actor, no longer needing to act as one and gave Tella his complete and undivided attention, making up for the hesitation he showed before he had almost lost her.

He still hadn’t quit his immortality, promising he would once he felt it was safe and all the Fates’ intentions were proven to be actually pure. Tella didn’t understand his reluctance. All the Fates were in the palace under Scarlett’s command after accepting her as one of their own.

Not all Fates, a voice vowed in her head.

Tella’s skin prickled as a cold sensation ran down her body, leaving chills in its trail. Tella frowned at the voice, refusing to acknowledge the possibility. 

There was only one Fate Legend could doubt, one that was on the loose, that left forever that day.

The Prince of Hearts. Jacks.

Tella tried her hardest not to think about Jacks or that day, when he requested her will in exchange for help and crumbled it in pieces to fit his desires. She recalled the words of Mistress Luck, the one who advised her to stay away from him before he destroyed her or she killed him.

She was wrong. 

She couldn’t believe she let herself think even for a moment that Jacks had actually cared about her, that he would’ve done anything for her, the one he wanted to call his true love. She was just his current obsession, one he would’ve committed the worst of crimes to possess, break any moral as long as it went his way. Tella suspected the fact that she was forbidden, taken by his enemy, only heightened his lust.

She ignored the emptiness in her chest, angry at Jacks for creating a bond with her strong enough to feel as if though she had lost something, a crucial part of herself, the hollow in her growing as each day passed. A bitter laugh escaped Tella’s dry throat, scraping it. 

She remembered the stories her mother told her about the Fates when she was a child. Whereas Scarlett was obsessed with the story of Legend, Tella was fascinated by the Prince of Hearts ever since he’d predicted her loveless future when she’d pulled him from her mother’s Deck of Destiny.

She remembered doubting that any kiss—much less from him—could be worth dying for, and wondering what a deadly kiss would be like. She imagined it as a false caress leaving an acidic taste that burnt tongues, never to be fondled by another again.

Yet the kiss she received from him proved to be the opposite of her speculations, as it never burnt her tongue but left it dry, leaving her unsatiated and deprived of what felt rightfully hers. The taste of him mixed with his scent was intoxicating and all she wanted to do was overdose on it.

Although the myth about the deadly kiss might have been right, the rest of it wasn’t. The fond memories of him were crumpled by the very prince, only making her wish she had never found out about him, never met him, never got to know his true self. He was no one to look up to or want—he was tactless and self-centered, greedy and inconsiderate, heedless and—

Tella pinched her cheek to snap out of it, scolding herself for letting her mind slip back to that day, to Jacks. It was hard not to, after all it hadn’t been that long, but the mere thought of him made her feel unsettled, her body alert at the mention as if preparing for another one of their brawls, insults lying on the tip of her tongue.

Tella hoped she saw the last of him that day. Everything was finally as she wanted, as peaceful as ever and only he had the motives to want to ruin that. She knew he was determined—as much as she was—but she hoped he finally gave up that day, on his need to win, on her.

Jacks

Music flew in and out of the street cafés and restaurants as Jacks passed them, pushing through crowds and crowds of lost tourists with their money hungry guides who were convincing them of spending it on each and every luscious product they set their wandering eyes on. In his hurry to escape Valenda, and then later the Fates who persisted he joined them in the northern kingdoms, Jacks fled for the smallest town he could find on the map, Dansa. Had he known that the smallest city would’ve been so unbearably loud and overflowing with people, he would’ve kept searching for another one.

Undoubtedly, Jacks wanted to hide, cower away from the new empress, the world and most of all, himself. He knew the Fates who were banned from the palace would come searching for him, partly because they felt safer the more they were, and partly to help Jacks regain strength. Jacks refused their help, instead asking them to cover for him and say that he was indeed with the rest of them in the northern kingdoms, whilst he would travel around and keep quiet, and so they parted their ways.

After all, he had to hide since it was no secret that the Prince of Hearts had finally found his one weakness, the new princess of the kingdom, Donatella Dragna. 

Jacks wished the word didn’t spread so fast among the Fates, who begged him to tell them about her and what happened. Some pitied him whilst some stayed in the back, taking pleasure in the anguish of the prince.

The Prince was never meant to truly love, his tragic fate already written out before he could live it out to deem it correct. He regretted ever wishing to prove the myth.  
He felt everything infinitely stronger than a mortal would, so once he found the one to make his heart beat again, he’d hold onto her for as long as he could, leaving a trail of corpses behind. He supposed that made him merciful from the version told in stories, seeing as he didn’t kill anyone to have Donatella, though was tempted.

The only reason he stopped himself from feasting on their flesh was Donatella herself. He knew that it would only prolong her hatred for him, and though he always enjoyed seeing her untamed passion she had only for him, he knew that no crime was more unforgivable for her than hurting her loved ones.

Jacks shook his head, as if to shake her off his mind, who seemed to paralyze it more and more often.  
Growing tired of pushing through sweaty crowds, Jacks decided to grab a drink somewhere before heading back to the motel where he had stayed for the past few months. It was the opposite of what he was used to, first living as a fake heir in the palace and then in his comfortable study, but it was hidden from wandering tourists and the blaring noise and Jacks wanted his peace.

After passing several pubs, Jacks settled on the least crowded one. It was small jazz bar whose only costumers were locals and heartbroken fools who came there to drown out their misery for awhile. Jacks supposed that made him both.

Jacks let out a low, ironic chuckle, not believing he let it ever get that far. He had not only went out of his way for a woman who despised him beyond measure, but humiliated himself in his act of desperation. He never meant for it to go that far. He accepted his role of the villain in the world, yet he couldn’t accept that Donatella’s role was different than he imagined. He finally found a flaw in the myth about his true love. She was the flaw.

He tugged off his jacket and perched himself on one of the barstools, next to woman dressed in all black, a hat covering her scrawny face. Closing his eyes, Jacks let himself be seduced by the saxophone for a moment, the enthusiastic melody contrasting his soulful mood.  
He heard a glass being slid in front of him, opening his eyes to find a goblet filled with blood-red wine, his reflection staring back at him. Suddenly alert, Jacks turned to face the woman on his right, his hand firm on his dagger in his left pant pocket.

The woman only snickered at him, disposing of her hat and facing him fully. Jacks exhaled, his shoulders sagging in relief. Next to him sat someone he considered close to him, the only person Jacks felt he could confide in as of lately. Because of the death of Fallen Star and change in the kingdom, he hasn’t seen her in awhile, feeling a pang in his chest that he could only describe as relief. He was glad to see her well and in her usual derisive attire, though he suspected she didn’t need it, her aura captivating all people present in any room.

She owned the type of confidence that one couldn’t fake, her strut assured and her gaze nonchalant, seemingly always composed and in control of herself and anyone she set her eyes on. Even though she had lost some of her powers with death of Fallen Star, she still attracted everyone around her, never letting on just who she was or how dangerous she was. They all thought the Fates lost all their powers then and not just most of it. They had too much magic in them for too long to just lose it forever.

Jacks’ hand dropped from his dagger and rested on his thigh, savoring the liquor given to him. “What are you doing here?” he said in between gulps.

The woman faked a gasp, her eyes widening as she spoke in an exaggerating voice, “No ‘hello’ or ‘how are you doing’? We don’t see each other for a couple of months and you drop all your manners.”

Jacks knew she was joking but he couldn’t bring himself to smile, knowing she didn’t come without a reason—after all she probably wasn’t allowed to just go wherever she liked. He guessed being on the new empress’ good side had a price; the Fates could live in the palace and be free, but had to follow her rules and couldn’t do whatever they pleased.

He should’ve expected it—for the empress to send someone to check up on him, though he could’ve never imagined it would be someone he was actually close to. He suspected they knew and sent her for that exact reason, for only she had known him well enough to track him down without an issue and talk him into whatever she was preparing.

“I don’t feel like playing games right now, Evelyn.”  
Evelyn’s eyes narrowed at the sound of her real name, much more used to everyone calling her Mistress Luck, or just Mistress. Not many knew it and Jacks only called her by her name when he was serious so she quickly dropped her smile and faced him.

“It’s nothing bad, I promise. No one’s here to question you or arrest you. Out of all the banned Fates, you’ve been the quietest one.” she said, looking delighted. Leaning in, Evelyn whispered, as though the blaring music didn’t hide her words enough, “And I didn’t tell anyone you’re not with the rest of them.”

At that Jacks finally looked at her again, really looked at her, his suspicion raising along with his curiosity. “If not to drag me back or make me talk, why would you come here?” he asked, trying not to let his interest show. There was no reason for anyone to come look for him, besides a possible check up on his behavior, which was as peaceful as ever.

“Can’t a girl just visit her old friend?” 

Immediately, Jacks’ bored expression turned to disbelief, quietly sniggering to himself. “As far as I know, you guys are not allowed to leave the palace unless sent somewhere.” he said, sipping on his wine so he didn’t have to face her, knowing she would’ve saw through him after centuries of being with him all the time. It was bluff. He didn’t know for sure. Maybe Evelyn could but never felt like visiting him until now. Jacks ignored the sudden twitch of hurt he felt at that thought, knowing he wasn’t the most pleasant company. “Just tell me, Evelyn.” he said, sounding bored again.

He didn’t have to look to know Evelyn rolled her eyes, glaring at him for being so grave. Sighing, she spoke again, “The new empress—Scarlett—sent me to find you and the rest of the Fates and let you know she wants to hold a political conference with you. She wants all of us there, to have more knowledge and power on her side in case something happens. She invited you all to participate the meeting and make up your mind then. It’ll be held in 5 months, on the anniversary of Fallen Star’s death.”

Evelyn’s hand landed on his shoulder then, her expression softening. “Wouldn’t it be nice if you joined the rest of us there? We could spend every day together again without worries. She’d only ever need us if new enemies arose, but it’s doubtful there ever will be with everybody in her control.”

Jacks stayed quiet for a couple of moments, as if he was thinking it over, deep down already knowing the answer. No. Going back to Valenda was not an option.  
Living in the palace meant being under surveillance all the time, his freedom to do whatever and go wherever taken away. It also meant…

Jacks tried to drown out the thought but the more he shoved it away, the more it fought its way to the surface.

Being in Valenda and living in the same palace meant he would have to face her again. Not only would he have to see her every day, but Legend too, probably attached to her, too.

It was too early, the feel of her skin on his lips and her choice to shatter his heart with his own dagger in her hands still fresh in his mind.

He felt a swirl of different emotions at the thought of her.

He was angry. Angry at Donatella, at his betraying heart, at himself. He was also jealous, not only of Legend who won over the one he wanted to call his true love, but at Donatella, too. In the end, she got everything she wanted; her sister, Legend and a life filled with adventures whilst he could only follow the path written out for him, not even bothering to try and change it again. By now he knew the outcome would be the same. He supposed that made him sorrowful and bitter as well.

Shaking his head, Jacks feigned hesitance, not caring if it looked genuine or not. “I won’t be going. You can tell her Highness I don’t want to hear what she has to say and I won’t be a prisoner in her castle just to benefit her.”

“But Jacks—”

“I said no. I’m not going back to Valenda, Evelyn. There’s nothing left for me there.”


	2. Chapter 2

Tella

Tella’s eyes opened and closed again just as fast, blinded by the light emitting from the balcony. The curtains were pulled apart, letting the sun lounge in their room. Tella turned to see Legend still deep in slumber despite the brightness.

She paused, unsure of what to do. After the fight they had last night, she wasn’t sure if she wanted to talk to him just yet. Tella couldn’t help but feel gloomy at the thought. The fights were happening more and more often as they neared their one year anniversary.

Not a lot had changed since then, including them.

He didn’t love her. He couldn’t physically love her. His emotions for her were strong, but they weren’t love. No matter how much he said it, she knew those words were just enticing lies that Tella fell for every time. He believed he could avoid the inevitable by saying those words.

And for awhile it worked. She savored his promises to the hilt, determined to believe he just needed time from all the change and shock and would eventually do it.

However, 11 months have passed since his first promise and Legend still hasn’t given up his immortality.

Tella tried to ignore it, to just accept him for who he is but the more she fell in love, the more desolated she felt knowing he didn’t feel that much as she did.

They went in circles and neither wanted to comply to the other; they were both stubborn and insistent and their fights always ended in hungry kisses filled with anger—at each other, at themselves. Where they couldn’t agree on verbal level, they did on physical, trying to sweep away their problems under the rug and pretend everything was fine. Tella wasn’t sure just how much longer she could keep up the act, her patience running out, before she exploded and all her shoved words leaking out with no intention to stop.

She just wanted Legend to love her. It appeared so easy for her to hand over her heart to him whilst he played with it, not knowing just how fragile the thing he held was. Tella comforted herself by saying he wouldn’t know; he had been with women and he had made them fall in love, but never returned their feelings.

Everything was supposed to finally fall into place. Tella lived in a palace as a princess, had her sister with her, and Legend, who went out of his way to be with her. So why wasn’t she happy? It appeared as if nothing was ever enough for her and she despised herself for it. Tella wondered if that made her selfish, to have everything she ever thought she wanted and still be so dejected.

Tella pushed the covers away, careful not to wake Legend up, and forced herself to get up. She knew her sister would scold her if she was even a little late. For the past week, Tella had one obligation. It was to aid Scarlett in her preparations for the upcoming conference with the banned Fates. As the new empress, she wanted everything to look perfect, to show she could do an equally good—or even better—of a job as her father, though everyone already appreciated her simply for the fact that she was different from her father.

What she didn’t know was why her sister chose her—made her help her prepare for the event. She knew Scarlett must have been nervous, but she had never included her in such things before.

Tella didn’t want to grow suspicious of Scarlett, especially when she had been the best sister anyone could have, but her behavior had grown to be different than what Tella was used to. Scarlett became more careful and cautious when talking to her, as if she was a drinking glass ready to break with the littlest push. They never talked alone anymore and whenever Tella tried to get her to open up, Scarlett would just brush it off as exhaustion from her new duties. Tella wondered if she should’ve pushed it further when giving her space only distanced her even further.

It appeared to Tella everyone around her was feeding her lies, so many lies and empty promises that she couldn’t decipher real from fake anymore.

_“I’ve heard promises like yours before, but they are always lies.”_

Tella rolled her eyes as his voice echoed inside her head, clear and convincing. She quickly brushed off the thought as always and let one of her servants tighten the silky velvet gown around her. Despite hating Jacks as much as she claimed to, Tella thought of him more often than she’d like to admit and it irritated her beyond measure. She’d grown used to it over the months, merely accepting it as a result of everything that transpired between them. She’d felt too strongly toward him to forget him so fast, their relationship was based on overwhelming hatred and calculations that made her head spin. He was unpredictable and unlike anyone she knew, a bullet pearling in her living skin. Jacks was a bruise that wouldn’t heal so Tella let herself stay bruised.

Dressed, Tella glanced back at the sleeping figure in her bed once before leaving the room, hurrying off to meet her sister. She greeted every servant she came across as she strolled through the endless corridors, dashing through them when there was no one to see her and talk behind her back about her for her “non ladylike” behavior. She knew she wasn’t nowhere near a perfect princess, but the rumors didn’t help Scarlett in her reign so Tella kept up the pretense.

Tella spotted the ebony door and instantly opened it, propping herself down on one of the wooden chairs when she realized Scarlett wasn’t there. It was out of character for her to be late, her hectic schedule not letting the conference take too much of her time, the reason why they started the preparations weeks early.

Tella took her time to glance around the room as she waited for her sister. It was a study, not as big as the rest of the rooms in the palace, but comfortable and hidden away from the masses—only certain people and chosen servants knew about it.

The walls of the study were painted in light red, decorated with several pictures and paintings. The desk in front of her was wide with heaps of papers on it and an empty cup that reeked off old caffeine. Everything in the room was made from sandalwood; one could practically smell it, the scent still fresh and infiltrating the air. The fire crackling in the fireplace caressed Tella’s bare legs through the soft material of her dress.

Scarlett suddenly barged in, her eyes widening at the sight of Tella as if she wasn’t expecting her to be there. Tella grew even worried, standing up from her seat. “Tella. I’m sorry I’m late, there was trouble with one of the servants and—”

“Scarlett.” Tella quickly interrupted, not knowing when she’ll have the courage to start the conversation again if not then, afraid she might have done something to her sister, maybe her behavior actually did affect her—  
Scarlett stopped, startled at her sister’s sharp tone. Her shoulders straightened as she looked at her expectantly.

“I need to know what’s going on. With you. Something’s off and you won’t tell me what. Is it me? Did I do something? Did Julian do something?” Tella’s fist formed at her side as that thought popped up, not believing she hadn’t thought he might be the issue before.

Scarlett’s head shook rapidly, her hands raised defensively as she spoke, “No, no! Everything’s fine with Julian. He didn’t do anything.”

“So I did something wrong?”

“No, never. You didn’t do anything wrong.” Scarlett said, stepping closer to Tella.

“Then what is it, Scarlett?” Scarlett bit her lip nervously and clasped her hands together. “Why can’t you tell me if it’s not about me? You know you can tell me anything.” Tella pleaded, unclasping her hands as she took one in hers, squeezing it.

“I know, I know. It’s just that… Tella, there’s something I haven’t told you. I don’t know if it’ll actually happen, but…”

The younger sister stepped away as she heard that, dropping Scarlett’s hand from her own, frowning. Tella couldn’t think of a single thing Scarlett could do that would hurt her in some way. Her brain spiraled with all numerous possibilities, overriding.

“There’s no excuse for what I did, but please listen to me. I never meant to hurt you with this. I didn’t want to do it, but Poison and others said—”

“Poison? Others?”

Scarlett’s head dropped, as if frightened to look at Tella. She carefully neared her, slowly so that she doesn’t step away from her. Tella noted that Scarlett was walking on needles around her even more. Her heart tightened at the sight.

“Tella. Don’t interrupt me, please just let me talk first. You can accuse me and hate me after I’ve finished. The truth is… I haven’t told you everything about the conference. I wasn’t planning on ever doing it, but the Fates—they advised me to do it with the potential danger from the North where the rest of them are and said it’d be better if they were all under my command.”

Tella only stared at her in confusion, already knowing that bit of the story. The more she spoke, the more confused Tella grew. She wanted to shout at her sister to stop being so vague, to just say the truth already, but she stayed quiet.

“I didn’t understand what they meant at first. Everything they said was already agreed and acted upon. Seeing the look on my face, they explained it to me.” she hesitated, stuttering out the words.

“Tella, they wanted me to invite all the banned Fates. Including Jacks.”

The world was suddenly painted in black and white. Just like the landscape, all complexity escaped her until there was only unintelligibility. Time stood still, frozen in the second that those words left Scarlett’s guilty mouth. Her lips kept moving, but there was a deafening buzzing in Tella’s ears that shut her words out. Trying to regain her senses, Tella focused on her heart, which was beating out of her chest, reverberating.

 _Jacks_. In Valenda. Living in the same palace as her.

 _Jacks._ Who wanted her. Who jumped at any chance he could get to have her. Who claimed to want her as his one true love.

 _Jacks._ The scar that wouldn’t fade away. The thought that infiltrated her mind against her own will. The mark stamped on her skin.

He was dangerous—far more dangerous than anyone Tella ever has or ever would encounter. It wasn’t just his powers that worried her. Everything about him spelled dangerous.

From his boyish dimples and infamous devil-may-care smile, to his captivating looks that made women and men fall to their knees helplessly, his kisses just as deadly.

His personality was the most dangerous thing about him, though. No one could ever truly know him, his way with words not allowing so.

Tella could not call him a liar for he was not that. He played with the truth, dodging and masking it, his opponents never knowing the right questions to ask to unravel it. And Tella fell into his trap every time. It made him worse than any liar.

And yet, despite all those facts, Tella had never been frightened by him. She never cowered in his presence but instead stared him done as he shrinked at her gaze, not the other way around. She wondered if that was what attracted him to her so much, her defiance and will to destroy him—and actually go through with it.

Jacks being here would only bring damage and devastation, undoing all the progress Scarlett’s made with the kingdom. There would be no peace with him living there. Tella couldn’t believe her sister could do something so reckless as to personally invite the enemy into their home.

“Tella? Tella, please say something. He—he might not even come. Evelyn said his answer is indefinite.”

Tella started to hear her sister clear, the shock wearing out. The blank expression she wore turned into a scowl and her eyes narrowed. She ripped her hands from Scarlett’s who flinched at the sudden movement. Water pooled at the bottom of Scarlett’s chocolate eyes, her mouth pulled together, as if to keep in a sob. There was so much she wanted to say at that moment, but instead of her mouth, her feet moved toward the door.

Tella knew it would be wrong to leave her in that state but she couldn’t bring herself to care as she stepped out of the room, instead seeking comfort in the arms of the man she loved.

Jacks

Jacks welcomed the familiar sound of the saxophone as he entered the bar, strolling over to the one spot in the back where no one resided. He recognized some of the locals who spent each night there whilst he only noted a young woman flirting with one of the waiters, and a couple whose mouths were entangled, seduced by the atmosphere. The musicians ached a little tune that told the story of the night, of the burned fields, the destroyed land and lovers left broken in the brown dirt. The place reeked of whiskey and repressed memories, the dimmed lights allowing the costumers to do as they might.

Plopping down on one of the club chairs, he waited until he caught the attention of the barman and waved, the man cheerfully greeting him in return as he began mixing the drink Jacks usually ordered there.

The bar became like refuge to him, a safe heaven he visited when he felt restless or wanted to solve something. Solve meant isolate. Solve meant conquer.

And he wanted nothing more than to conquer his betraying body and mind.

He gulped down the drink brought to him, letting the content burn his tongue till all he could focus on was the prickly feeling. He tried mimicking the men who drowned their miseries with alcohol, but it had never worked for him, only making his sight foggy and hearing clogged.

The taste was bitter, but intoxicating and it willed him to consume more and more, much like his memory of her.

He yearned for her.

His need for her was ridiculous. It tore at his sanity, shredding it apart and digging deeper and deeper until he was skinned to the bone.

He didn’t know one could miss another so much, to the point where his eyes pleaded to see her again and hands ached to touch her, ears begged to hear her and mouth craved to taste her.

He didn’t know when or how it happened, but he found himself void of control over himself. Because of her.

The enormity of his desire disgusted Jacks, making him question and despise himself for acting so mundane, for being so human.

And yet again, he found himself repeating the same thoughts he had for a year, the fervor stronger than the alcohol he consumed.

If he hadn’t been thinking about her, he would’ve heard the barman approaching. He would’ve seen him pull the chair next to his and slide into it, an awkward smile plastered on his face.

The man was no stranger to Jacks, not when one visited the bar as much as he did. For awhile he tried imitating initiating a conversation, Jacks only muttering low words of agreement in return until one day, he stopped trying completely. So despite the cold look he carried, his curiosity piqued as to why the man would try to approach him again.

The unsure smile never left his face, his hands clasped at the side. Few moments passed, the look of realization stretching his mouth and widening his eyes as if he only then remembered he was supposed to explain why he joined him at the table. “Hello, there.” he finally spoke, hands reaching up to fix his glasses. Jacks finally looked at him then. He was scrawny—no older than twenty and his attire clung to his body. His eyes fell on the name tag——until they reached his face again.

The man, Wyatt, was inexperienced, had no knowledge of the world and his existence held no importance to the humanity. Jacks continued to eye him expectantly, the prolonging boring him.

Wyatt got the hint, hesitant again. “Listen, I know you’re the lone wolf or whatever, but I’ve seen men like you. You’ve seen them. Hell, I was like you at one point. I know how you feel. But trust me, you’ll never move on if you just sit here and try to drink her away. You ever wonder why you see the same men come here every night? It’s because this,” he yapped, pointing at the empty glass in front of Jacks, “it doesn’t work. And I’m not about to tell them that because I’m not trying to lose all my costumers, but it’s been about a year since you… joined the group here and I don’t want you to be here for another.”

Wyatt finished once he realized he was babbling. Clasping his hands again, he rushed out, avoiding eye contact, “I know it’s difficult to just meet someone new, and sometimes you don’t need love immediately. So an idea came to me.” Wyatt rose his eyebrows and leaned in, “I know a girl. She works in the building in front of ours. You just have to tell the guard my name and he’ll let you in. She’ll be more than willing to help you forget.” he finished, adding a wink.

Time passed. The band stopped playing, taking a break to catch their breath before playing their hearts out into the endless night. Fear creeped upon the man’s face, the utter look of calm and sheer silence frightening him. He looked as if he regretted the whole ordeal, moments away from leaving the table. There was no sound, the clattering of glasses and lowly chatter doing nothing to minimize his anxiety. Wyatt began to get up when he heard it.

Jacks laughed. He truly laughed, not out of irony or for the show but out of amusement, surprising himself by the action. It was unrehearsed and the laugh scraped his throat, drying it, as if not used to the vibration. The heavy sound was cavernous, emerging from the bottom of his chest where it was buried a long time. The barman looked even more frightened.

 _The Prince of Hearts. Getting set up with a hooker by a barman who didn’t even know of his identity._ The absurdity made his chest rumble.

Jacks quickly regained his composure, deciding not to dwell on his previous action. He quietly said, his dark eyes boring into Wyatt’s. “If you truly think I’m anything like the drunk foolish men who enter your bar on daily basis then you couldn’t possibly be more wrong. I don't need your help or your pity. Now quit bothering me.” Jacks stopped, offering no further explanation and letting the silence speak for itself as he watched Wyatt get up from his seat and walk back to his position, crestfallen.

Hours passed since their little encounter, the music filling the void once again as he drank it away, the barman sending another man to serve him at once. Their brief conversation made him question himself in more ways than one. Just how much had he changed that a man could approach him so freely and say such delusions? Jacks remembered the way humans cowered away when they saw him, his mere presence unsettling something deep within them. A darkness enveloped him, threatening to swallow those who try to get close to him. Only the foolish ones would try to grasp it with their own hands, just to be met with nothing tangible, a bottomless pit with images and voices that would make one go crazy, sharing their mind with demons and ghosts that feasted on human sanity.

Jacks grasped the goblet, a groan warning to escape.

She ruined him. She ruined everything. A little mortal girl.

Because of her, his mind ruled his body and the lack of his powers made him even more vulnerable. None of that would’ve happened if it weren’t for her. Jacks converted his hurt and shame into hatred and anger, something that wasn’t so complex—something he could understand. Something he should had done a long time ago.

Yet hatred wasn’t a strong enough word for what washed over him then.

He _loathed_ her.

All his doubts and regrets just vanished in moments like these, replaced by a feeling of raw and palpable contempt. He wanted her gone. He wanted her to be his, and he wanted to ruin her the same way she ruined him. He craved to bury himself inside her with the same force she plunged the dagger in his chest. He craved to poison her with his own mouth and touch her until every inch of her skin was burning and writhing, lost in bliss, unaware she was meeting her very ending.  
He would be her ending then. And once she was gone he could return to his old self.

 _Enough_.

He needed to stop thinking about her, to stop struggling with this constant swirl of emotions. It rattled him, and the thought that she was in another’s arms, he far from her thoughts, only unsettled him further. If he showed patience and tenderness, she only showed defiance and detestation in return. Nothing he said or did would’ve changed her feelings.

She didn’t care. She never did.

Wordlessly he left the bar, letting the wind lead him to the building ahead of him.


End file.
